


The Man You Made

by Wallwalker



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship, Travel, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallwalker/pseuds/Wallwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, curiosity got the better of you. You couldn't even bring yourself to ask for money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man You Made

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stealth_Noodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealth_Noodle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Signifying Nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/47497) by [Stealth_Noodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealth_Noodle/pseuds/Stealth_Noodle). 



So this is the man you've helped create.

He's young, still, but that doesn't mean he's harmless. He's a solid wall of muscle, far taller and broader than you, and yet you can see serenity in his pale blue eyes. The life of an aesthetic has been kind to him; perhaps self-denial has helped him put some of his demons aside.

You would have expected him to have far more demons than this. Monsters, chasing him in his nightmares. A dead father, a mother he knew only in old portraits, a brother who had wrested the throne from him and sent him away - or so you assume, because he is here and he has not spoken of his twin and their past more than a passing mention. Except that isn't it at all, is it? Of course it isn't. This is not a man who hates his brother. You have worked for more than a few of those. You would recognize the signs.

You wonder what that feels like, having a brother... you once thought you'd found one, but when the chips were down you failed him. Brothers don't walk away from each other. Not like that. And when they do walk away from each other that way, they don't forgive each other. Once that bond is broken, it doesn't repair itself.

That was what you had thought, at least. But Sabin... he seems stubbornly ignorant of those facts, and therefore they don't apply to him. He keeps walking with that same easy self-assurance, and his laugh comes often and easily, and the two of you are making fantastic time. You're probably halfway to Doma by now, and you still can't bring yourself to ask him for money. Not now. He spends it freely enough on you anyway, purchased new weapons at your request... he probably would give you more, if you asked for it. He seems to have no particular love for it, behaves as if he could live quite happily without it. Which, all things considered, he probably could.

You still don't ask for money, though. Maybe it's foolish of you, and maybe you'll regret it, but you want to see the man you made. You want to know just how what you've done has changed this soft, sad stripling prince into a powerful warrior-monk.

\---

Miles along the road, and you still can't bring yourself to ask for money.

You should be - you should be demanding hazard pay, for what he's making you go through. Doma's behind you now but not nearly far enough, in your opinion, not after the kid had picked a fight with one of the Empire's generals. And not just any of its generals, but General Kefka, the craziest and most unstable son-of-a-bitch in a nation of madmen and dupes.

Yes, you've taken their money. Might take it again, if they offer you enough. Doesn't mean you'll blind yourself to what they've become. You might be an assassin, but you've never murdered a castle full of women and children. Even you have your limits.

Sabin has guts, you'll give him that. Most guys wouldn't steal a MagiTek unit and run ripshod through an Imperial camp with two generals in close proximity. Although frankly you're just as surprised that he seems to know something about what he's doing. You've heard about the technological prowess of the current king of Figaro; you half-expected this young exile to be a technophobe, rejecting the works that his father and brother had a hand in, because everyone knows that the technological expertise of Vector was built on the shoulders of Figaro's tinkerings. Why else would the old king have had to die, really?

So there you are, on the road again. Sabin is sitting quietly with the old man - he's tried to bumble out a few apologies, tried to offer platitudes, but in the face of the other's continued tears he seems to have died down to sympathetic silence. Good, you think - it's the only balm for a pain like that - silence, a hand on the shoulder, the knowledge that someone is _there._ The way she was just there, at first, tending to his wounds, gentle hand on your forehead.

No. You have more control over your thoughts now; you have not seen her face in many years. Why in the world...?

You look back at Sabin, his face full of pain and righteous fury over another man's injury, and answer your own question.

\---

 

The Phantom Train clatters along its rails, and occasionally you hear a whistle like a banshee's scream. You expected dangers, traveling with him, but nothing like this; you sometimes look over your shoulder, expecting Baram to be there, standing behind you with a broken back and accusing eyes.

"You okay, Shadow?"

You start. He's looking back over his shoulder at you for the umpteenth time - which in and of itself wasn't surprising at first, since you figure that anyone who'd let you walk behind him without looking over his shoulder would be a damned fool. But he's not distrustful of you at all - far from it. He looks at you like he gives a damn about what happens to you. Like you're more than just a guy who decided to tag along and help him out - because you can't say you're working for him, can you?

"I'm fine," you say gruffly, trying to hide the fear. The old man looks at you oddly - he's never really acknowledged you, and you haven't said much to him, and you both seem okay with that. But he looks like a man who understands pain, even if you had met him under better circumstances.

You ignore it. The old man ignores it. Even Interceptor seems to do his best to ignore it, although you do hear the slightest trace of a whimper from his long black muzzle.

The kid doesn't, but he doesn't push, just shrugs. "Well, lemme know if you need to rest," he says, and keeps walking, bearing far more graceful than anyone that big has a right to be. Not the sort of grace you'd see from a dancer, mind you - thinking of this guy in leotards on the stages of Jidoor would be laughable if you would let yourself laugh - but the sort of grace you'd see from a big cat, the sort of grace you see for only a couple of seconds before the enormous beast jumps on you and snaps your neck -

Damn it. Why are you thinking so hard about this? Monk or not, huge muscle-bound beast or not, he's still just a kid. A stupid kid who led his friends right into the legendary train that was probably gonna take them on a one-way trip to the afterlife. And you just... went along with it, out of your own stupid curiosity.

Baram was going to be down there somewhere. Wasn't he? So was this kid's father and mother. Maybe once this train gets there, and Sabin meets them, he'll realize just what he'd gotten into.

You aren't the sort to tell your employers that you told them so, even when you had. But you might change your mind, if that happens. Kid hasn't paid you, after all.

\---

"Let him be, kid."

It used to be someone else's hand on your shoulder, holding you back from doing something rash. Baram's hand, usually. Hers, on at least one sad occasion.

This time it's yours, black glove on Sabin's muscular bicep - a token restraint at best. You and he both know he could break away if he cared to. But if you really wanted to stop him - and you think that you could, you think that you know a few tricks that even his master wouldn't have taught him - you'd have to turn around. You'd have to look at the Phantom Train as it sped away without you, and wonder if you missed someone waving at you from the railing. It's stupid and you know it; the only people you would be afraid to see would have long passed to the realms of the dead, whatever they are. But there's always the thought that someone might have come back, just for you....

He doesn't move, at least. But he doesn't step back, either. "I can't just leave a guy alone like that," he says, and you hear the tension in his voice. "Not when he's hurting."

"He's lost everything. You can't do anything for him. Leave him be." You tighten your grip ever so slightly - not enough to stop him, even then, but enough to remind yourself that you knew what you were saying, and you meant every word. "He's a tough man. He'll come back."

Sabin sighs. "Not everything's about strength," he says quietly. "Someone very wise taught me that."

It would be a strange thing to hear such a massive man say, except that this is Sabin. You've grown used to the contradictions by now. "You're right," you say, changing your tack. "This isn't a matter of him being strong or weak. He's saying goodbye." You sigh and wonder if he can hear it. "Not everyone gets the chance to do that. Let him have his."

There's a long moment where it seems as though time has frozen, and with it your bodies, locked in that tiny moment... until Sabin turns and stands beside you. "I guess that's true," he says. "I mean... I know it is."

There's distance in his eyes. Clear enough who he's thinking of, anyway, and you briefly entertain the notion of telling him. Letting him have the truth as a consolation, because you can't give him his father back. You can't take back the ten years of whatever fallout this caused between him and his brother. But you could at least let him know that his father's death was no accident.

But you don't. What good would it do, anyway? What difference does it make whose hand killed his father? The Empire would have found someone else to pour the poison. Besides... you're sure that telling him would mean the end of... of this, whatever this is. And you don't want to walk away from anything unless it's on your terms. It might be small comfort, but you'll take what you can get.

\---

You're not usually a religious man, but if you were you'd be thanking somebody for getting out of that forest alive.

It took a day to bumble your way out of it. It might have taken less time, if the old man had been willing to take a few hours' rest, but he had refused. You can't say you blame him, after what he'd been through on the platform; you expect that you would've wanted to get as much distance yourself and the Phantom Train as you could too. But the man hadn't slept in far too many hours; he'd made a lot of mistakes, sent them in circles a few times before Sabin had finally taken his arm and insisted he try his own hand at navigation. He'd learned a few tricks, he'd said with a comradely laugh, and by that point everyone had been too tired to argue.

Apparently the tricks had worked, at least. You'd helped make camp almost as soon as they'd broken free of the canopy, as soon as they could see the stars. The old man passed out almost before Sabin could finish building the fire, and he insisted that he be allowed to sleep - no watch for him, he'd said.

You agree. Interceptor will be enough protection for all of you, anyway.

You aren't ready to sleep just yet, though. And it seems that he isn't either... come to think of it, you've barely seen him sleep this entire journey, have you? You ask him about it, over the last of a package of rations - one of the last of the rations that you managed to liberate from the imperial camp.

He laughs, a bit embarrassed. "I don't really have to sleep that much anymore," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something else my old Master taught me. I mean, I still have to rest and meditate, but that's not quite the same."

"Interesting." You eat the last of a bit of dried meat. "There are people who'd kill to know how to do that."

"I know. That's why I don't like to talk about it."

You shrug. You're not going to give away this kid's secrets. Even if he hasn't paid you. "So where are you going next?"

He looks at you, a bit puzzled. "To find my brother."

"You said that before. Figure you have a lot of unfinished business, right?" You don't really expect him to answer you. But the question is out, now.

"Well... we still have a lot to talk about." He takes a sip of water, washes down some hard bread. "But - ugh, this stuff's salty - I don't think now's the time. Gotta deal with the Empire, and all that."

"Oh?" you ask. For a terrifying moment the world narrows, and all you can think about is how quickly you can get to your weapons, how hard you would have to strike this man to knock him out without killing him, how quickly you and Interceptor would be able to get away before the old man was awake enough to pursue you, and how far you would have to run. All of that, underscored by a single thought.

 _He knows._

"Well, yeah. I mean. They're trying to do horrible things to the world, you know? Invading innocent countries, throwing everything out of balance. And what they did to us...." He stopped, then shook his head. "We never proved anything, but... I know they had something to do with it. And I have to make them understand that hurting others like that is wrong."

Slowly, you begin to relax. He doesn't know. He sees the head that masterminded the attack, but not the hand that dealt it. Wasn't that what you wanted?

You don't recall the rest of the conversation, before Sabin goes to meditate for the night. You only remember sitting up for your turn as watch, sitting beside Interceptor and waiting, wondering if you'll be able to sleep at all.

\---

You can't stay with him. Not anymore.

It's not because they were putting themselves in danger. You're used to that. You've done things that would make a jump down a waterfall seem mundane. Risky, sure, but you know that you all could survive.

No. You can't stay with him because of what you remember. What you've done to him, when he didn't deserve any of it. They say that an assassin should never get too close to his targets, but no one says anything about the people that they left behind. Maybe they should. It's not because you know he would hate you, although that does prickle at the edges of your mind - it's because you're finding yourself liking the man, despite everything, and maybe you can't live with what you've done to him. And you can't stay because you keep seeing things in his eyes that remind you of others that you wronged, and you can't live with reminders of your mistakes, at least not ones that didn't come from your own restless mind.

You'll probably meet him again, someday; he's the kind of person who's hard to miss in a crowd. And if you're going to be honest about it, you're hoping that you do... but not under these circumstances. If you could somehow atone for what you've done, maybe. Except that you're an assassin, not a fool - assassins and mercenaries aren't good at making up for their past mistakes. They're just good at piling new mistakes on top of the old ones, making gigantic rotting castles from their remains.

He's calling out to you, as you walk away. Something about how you two should join forces again, someday. You don't nod, don't acknowledge it. Easier that way.

Easier for you, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for one of the old Chocobo Down prompts (not for the Chocobo Race prompts.)  
> Prompt: "Shadow/Sabin slash. I'd especially like to see something related to why Shadow accompanied Sabin to Doma and beyond for free, or something with them meeting up in the World of Ruin during the year before the party gets together. Post-game is great, too, though in fic I'd like some kind of reason as to why Shadow's still alive then. :) I'd prefer something a bit dark rather than fluff with this."  
> It isn't as explicitly slashy as I'd hoped it to be, but it's getting there. I figure it would probably take them a while anyway.


End file.
